


Perfect Storm

by paperxcrowns



Series: Dick and Dami Week 2021 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Canonical Character Death, Damian Wayne Has Issues, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Batman, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne's Parent, Dick Grayson is Trying, Gen, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Misunderstandings, No editing we die like jason todd, dick is taking care of damian and he is Stressed, i made dick love old movies lol, mild anxiety, offscreen, rip bruce but he's not the focal point of this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperxcrowns/pseuds/paperxcrowns
Summary: Dick and Damian have a hard time adjusting to each other after Bruce's death.Prompt: "You're not my father!" "I am well aware."
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Series: Dick and Dami Week 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199357
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84
Collections: DickAndDamiWeek2021





	Perfect Storm

**Author's Note:**

> there are,,,,, a lot of mentions of old black and white movies and shows from the 50s 60s because i recently finished Wandavision and i have to Cope now

Life was hard sometimes. And other times, it was near unbearable to the point where even existing was a chore. Dick was sure that couldn’t mean anything  good, but given the current situation he found himself in, almost nothing happening with him could be classified as “good”.

Except maybe for the penthouse-- a drastic upgrade from his ratty apartment in  Blüdhaven  with its weird stains on the ceiling and peeling wallpaper.

Dick can hear birds chirping outside and glances over to see that the black outside the open window was fading, making way to the blue tint of early morning. 

He hadn’t been tired after patrol, and after letting Alfred dress his wounds and forcing Damian to take some Gatorade before he vanished into his room, he’d settled on the couch and played old movies on CDs he’d taken with him from his room at the Manor. They were a comfort. They were the one thing that hadn’t yet gone wrong so far. They were memories-- times when he’d sit around a battered computer with his parents and a few other members of the circus for a makeshift movie night on the way to their next location, just playing black and white movies.

He blinked at the screen, not recognizing the episode playing The audience was laughing at something that had happened. The volume was too low for Dick to hear all that well. He could have fallen asleep. Or zoned out. He found himself doing that often these days.

Dick stood up to make breakfast and stretch his legs-- his watch said it was fifteen minutes to six, which meant Dick had been sitting on the couch, unmoving, for at least four hours. 

The penthouse was cold and empty, but not in the way the Manor felt. The Manor was big enough that no matter how many people were currently living there, it always felt too big for coziness to settle. The penthouse felt lived in and comfortable. It was that five a.m. chill that made everything too unreal and too real all at the same time. 

Dick filled the electric kettle with water before setting it to boil. He opened the fridge and started pulling out ingredients to make breakfast. He was deciding what would be on this morning’s menu as he went.

He was just coming out of the pantry with his arms filled with breakfast cereal, a box of Pop-Tarts, and maple syrup when he caught sight of Damian standing in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water.

“Damian,” Dick said. “Morning. Hope you slept well.”

The kid shrugged. “It was average.”

Dick dumped everything on the counter and looked Damian over. It wasn’t unusual for him to be up early. It also wasn’t unusual that it was because he went down to the training room early in the morning and stayed there for at least two hours.

Dick took note of Damian wearing workout clothes, his hair still damp with sweat and panting slightly. Wordlessly, he opened the fridge and pulled out a fruit smoothie that he handed to Damian.

Damian glared at it, but took it nonetheless. 

This wasn’t the League and Damian was allowed to unwind and relax after a long workout. Dick wasn’t letting this kid work himself to death every day anymore. 

“How do you want your eggs?” Dick asked. “Poached?” 

Damian didn’t say anything. He simply walked out of the kitchen without a sound. 

Dick remained quiet for a bit.

“Poached it is, I guess,” he eventually muttered to the empty kitchen.

* * *

“Am I doing something wrong?” Dick asked Alfred while he was placing dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

Alfred stopped wiping the counter for half a second. “If you are talking about Damian, Master Dick, then I can assure you that you are probably the best thing that has happened to him.”

That hurt Dick even more. Alfred meant it as a compliment, and yes, it was a good thing, but Dick wasn’t prepared or  _ ready _ for this. Not emotionally, not mentally, and probably not physically. He was twenty-five. Yes, he was older than Bruce was when he’d taken in Dick, but look at how well  _ that _ turned out. The fact that Dick of all people, as unprepared and still grieving as he was, was the best influence the kid had was depressing. 

Dick had no idea what he was doing or what he was even supposed to do. He wasn’t a therapist. He wasn’t a psychologist. He knew how to handle traumatized kids because half of the time, it was the cases he got as a social worker, but living and caring for one that was now his own? Dick was lost and alone and grieving, and picking the pieces of his shattered family and trying to put them back together again. 

Dick sighed heavily, washing the suds off his hands. 

“I just-- I just wish he’d make it easier,” he admitted, feeling like the worst person in the world. “I wish he would talk to me. I wish he would--”

Dick wished he knew what to do. 

"He is grieving, Master Dick," Alfred said gently. 

Dick shook his head. "Yes. I know. But-- he's been avoiding me, too."

Dick couldn't handle that. Not right now. Bruce was dead, Tim was MIA just because Dick hadn't tried to stop him leaving, Damian was avoiding him and Dick had been forced to take up a legacy he didn't want. He was at the end of his rope. 

He couldn't lose anyone else. He couldn't lose Damian.

Alfred nodded. “Yes. He has been limiting contact with us. However, I believe you don’t need me to tell you why.”

Dick shook his head with a sigh. 

There were a lot of reasons why Damian would avoid him. Maybe it was just one of them, maybe it was all of them, maybe Damian wasn’t even sure why himself. Dick was Batman. Bruce was dead. Dick had stepped into Bruce’s role for pretty much everything; Batman, taking care of Damian, keeping an eye on Wayne Enterprises because Tim wasn’t there-- and Dick  _ couldn’t _ think about that. He couldn’t think about the fact that he’d broken his already broken family even more. Tim was gone and if he was dead, or stuck in a bad situation, Dick would  _ never know. _

“Perhaps you are putting too much pressure on yourself, Master Dick,” Alfred said. “You cannot hope to deal with everything at once. Start with helping Damian.”

He saw the warning in Alfred’s eyes.  _ Don’t push him away. Don’t ignore his needs the way Bruce would have. Don’t be Bruce. _

Because Damian didn’t need Bruce. He needed emotional support.

Dick thanked Alfred for helping him clear up the table and made his way out of the kitchen and towards Damian’s bedroom.  He stopped in front of Damian’s door and knocked before he lost the nerve.

He waited and waited, but there was no reply. No acknowledgment that Damian had heard him.

Dick waited a minute before knocking again, letting his fingers drum soundlessly on the wood.

"Hey kiddo," he said before sighing deeply. "Look. Listen. Sometimes things happen and we don't always know how to react to them. And that's okay. And it's okay to react differently from other people. But…I don't-- I don't think you should be alone. Not anymore, at least. I'm not asking you to like me, or even talk to me, just that you leave your room. I'm not trying to replace Bruce. I couldn't--"

"You're not my father," Damian said from the other side.

Dick's chest caved in at the words. "I am well aware," he said, calmly, as if the words hadn't stung. 

He wanted to say something else. He didn’t know what.

“Come out any time you want, ‘kay?” he settled on saying.

He wouldn’t be Bruce. He wouldn’t let the kid guess what he was feeling or what he meant. He would say it. He would tell him. 

There was once again no reply and Dick pushed off the door and made his way to the living room. Today was Saturday. Today, Dick would watch his CDs. comedies to balance out the tragedies in his life.

* * *

Dick heard the floorboards creaking. He looked up to see Damian standing in the doorway, his face blank and his posture stiff. Dick waited patiently for Damian to say something.

“Grayson,” Damian said. “I-- my behavior earlier was unacceptable. As your Robin, I should be able to work better with you.”

Dick stared at Damian in shock. This was the closest they’d ever come to n actual apology. Those online articles Dick had seen about parents complaining that their children would never learn through kindness and patience be damned. Dick was already making progress.

He smiled. “It’s okay, Dami. I accept your apology.” He paused, hesitating. “You know-- a good way to work better together is to spend more time together. I know it’s difficult these days. With--” with Bruce being dead and Dick forced to take up the mantle “-- with everything, but I want to get to know you.”

He tapped the couch pillow next to him and curled his stretched-out legs up to his chest. “So, you wanna watch with me?” he asked, trying to not sound too hopeful. “I promise these movies are actually good, okay? None of those boring movies Bruce likes to watch. Comedy back in the fifties and sixties was actually hilarious, you know.”

Damian hesitated. 

Dick had learned that as long as he didn’t mention the hesitation, the small flinches, Damian shying away from casual touches, Damian would be less likely to close himself off during a conversation. 

Dick didn’t say anything. If Damian wasn’t ready, that was fine, too. Because now Dick had the confirmation that Damian did want to be with Dick. 

He was surprised that Damian actually came over and sat on the very opposite end of the couch. Dick glanced at him briefly before focusing back on the movie. He’d watched it many times already-- and had accidentally made it a ritual to watch it with every new kid Bruce brought it-- but he never minded. It was a funny movie.   
“Why do you watch those?” Damian asked.

Dick glanced away from the screen. Damian was still staring at the TV intently, not laughing at punchlines, his mouth pressed in a thin line. 

Dick shrugged. “My parents watched them with me. I liked these movies growing up. There are things you don’t outgrow.”

Like the fact that Dick’s favorite actor had been Dick Van Dyke since he’d watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He filed that away as one of the movies he would have to watch with Damian. 

Damian didn’t say anything, but the next time a character goofed, the corners of his lips curled up in the ghost of a smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> [you can say hi on tumblr :)](https://blas-ph-emy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
